Legacies of War
by Saldia
Summary: An enemy blames Sheridan for the Drakh plague and seeks revenge.


Disclaimer: All characters and the entire Babylon 5 universe are the sole property of J.Michael Straczynski, Warner Brothers etc.

Note: The character Master Vultan was taken from the B5: Legions of Fire triology by Peter David. In writing this I decided to name Susan's ship the EAS Marduk, not the Titans as in the short story by JMS.

Credit: Thanks to Meg and Joan Wallace for beta reading the original (a long time ago).

The Legacies of War.

Part 1: Shadows of the Past.

Thomas Fletcher sat caressing the black box he held securely on his lap, a sanguine expression on his face. His fingers danced slowly back and forth on the lid, as if in celebration of his victory. His grasp tightened on the box as his eyes looked down at it; it had been almost too easy, taking it from them. The military intelligence boys were probably looking for him now. The thought made him laugh out loud. Military and intelligence were contradictions when applied to those Earthforce fools, he thought. How he would love to see them now, the brass going crazy over the security breech. They probably had an all out alert for him, maybe even notified the Minbari government, or would they? Would they want the Minbari to know what he was carrying? He didn't think so. It didn't matter. He didn't need to go to Minbar to get them. They would come to him. And when that happened John Sheridan would pay the price for what he did to Earth.

Earth Alliance cruiser _Marduk_

Captain Susan Ivanova stepped into her quarters, stripping off her jacket as she moved. She was tired, having been awakened to the pleasant sound of a distress signal. Apparently, raiders were busy this time of year; attacking cargo vessels in Earth controlled space. Dealing with raiders she didn't mind. Most of them weren't too bright, were too cocky, and they played easily into her traps. No, what bothered her was the ungodly hours they chose to make trouble. Either they didn't sleep or if they did, they probably liked it a lot less than she did. At this point though, she didn't care about anyone else's sleeping habits but her own. Sitting down on the bed, she began untying the laces of her boot. She had barely begun to remove one boot when her comlink beeped.

"Dammit!" she groaned, pressing the button on the link.

"Captain?" 

"Yes commander," she responded sounding annoyed. It was her comlink after all; whom did he think would answer.

"There's a gold channel message for you ma'am, from Earth Central. It's General Dorrel."

Probably calling to commend me on my brilliant tactics against the raiders, Susan thought sarcastically. Yes, and then he'd say take a month vacation Captain, and get some sleep. Yeah right! In her dreams (the ones they were preventing her from having at this moment.)

"Put it through to my quarters, Commander."

"Aye, ma'am."

Sighing, she got up and walked over to the view screen on the wall, putting her jacket back on just as the screen blinked to life.

"General," Susan said, regarding the grim faced man on the screen.

"Captain Ivanova, this message is being encoded so have your system keep up. I have a mission for you that's of the utmost importance. A former employee, Thomas Fletcher, stole something from one of our research bases. I need you to act as our bounty hunter, Captain."

"May I ask, sir, what was stolen?"

"That information is classified Captain, and at this time you don't need to know."

Before she could say anything he spoke again cutting her off.

"Intelligence reports indicate that Fletcher is on his way to Babylon 5. Your ship is the closest one in the vicinity. Your orders are to proceed directly there and assist in the arrest of Fletcher. Following the arrest you are to rendezvous with the EAS Anubus in sector 17 by 9 by 3 and transfer him into their custody."

"Has Babylon 5 been informed about this, sir?"

"Captain Lochley has been briefed. But your assistance in this is still imperative. Hopefully, if Fletcher is detained there it'll be just a matter of delivery. If not your services will be needed elsewhere. That's all I can say on the matter for now."

They exchanged a few more brief words before the image of the general disappeared, replaced by the Earthforce insignia. Not that the preceding conversation after the orders were given was much help. The stolen item could be anything from a weapon to data files for all she knew, all potential goods for a black market. Whatever it was, the general wanted to keep a tight lid on the matter. She sighed. The whole incident made her uneasy. She didn't know why; she was career military and should be used to secrets and confidentiality by now. Still it bothered her. But, as the general had pointed out, she had her orders, straight from the president. Touching her comlink, she alerted her XO of their new destination. So much for sleep, Susan thought glumly. 

Earth Central

General Dorell sat in his office staring at the blank com screen. He wished he could have told her more. But he had his orders as well. Captain Ivanova and Captain Lochley were both outstanding officers, but Fletcher had allies, powerful, secretive allies within the government and the military, Dorell suspected. Not all the darkness had died with Clarke. It was highly possible that Fletcher would make it off the station. And if that happened, he wondered if his government would warn the Minbari. Or would they turn a blind eye and hope that there involvement would never be discovered. If that happened he would need Captain Ivanovo more than ever. 

Babylon 5

Lewis Ferny hurried along the corridor of brown twelve towards his quarters. He moved like a man who was late for an appointment, and from the look on his face, one might guess that he was meeting with the devil himself. But then, Lewis was by nature a paranoid, nervous, if not cowardly man, who probably went through life with such looks on his face all the time. Holding up a shaking hand he jabbed his fingers at the buttons on the panel at the side of his quarters, leaping in as the door slid open.

"You're late," a male voice growled as the door slid shut behind him.

Lewis let out a startled scream that sounded more like a squeak, a sound befitting of his mouse-like appearance.

"I…I…" Lewis stammered.

"Never mind that now, where's the stuff?" the voice asked gruffly. It belonged to a figure sitting in the corner that looked distinctly Drazi.

"Well!" he demanded when Lewis did not answer. The hard reptilian face flickered momentarily then faded, revealing a human one that was no more pleasant to look upon than that of the alien.

"I have it," Lewis said, fidgeting nervously. 

The man eyed him with a look that mingled contempt with impatience. It was enough to get Lewis moving over to the small bed in the corner of the room, under which a fairly large supply crate lay. Picking it up, he moved it over to the table, alongside which his companion was now standing. At first glance, there was nothing atypical about the crate; it was a standard one used for shipping fragile items. A closer, more detailed inspection however would reveal, to someone who knew what to look for, a hidden compartment on the underside of the crate. Opening this compartment Lewis withdrew four changeling nets.

"Perfect," the man said, shoving Lewis out of the way as he moved over to examine the devices. Placing them back in the crate and resealing it he rose, propping the box under his arm as he moved towards the door.

"Be seeing you, Lewis," he said, switching on his own changeling net.

"Wa…wait, what about payment?"

"Ah yes, payment," the man said, reaching a gloved hand inside his jacket.

Lewis pulled back as if fearful that the man would pull out a weapon. In response to his reaction the man smirked and tossed a credit chit towards Lewis. It fell with a soft clatter on the floor at his feet. He waited for the man to exit the room before scrambling down to get it.

Fletcher stood listening outside, his back to the door. He could hear the 'mouse', for that was how he referred to Ferny, gasping on the inside. The sound of a metal object, probably the table, crashing to the ground followed, accompanied by a dull thud. It was over; the 'mouse' was no longer an issue. It was time to turn his attention elsewhere, where it really mattered. He walked away from the quarters without glancing back, pulling out a comlink as he moved.

"It's me," he said into it. "It's time, let's go."

Babylon 5 hung in silent rotation against the night; eclipsed by the larger body of Epsilon 3, which it orbited. It was still beautiful to her, the embodiment of the eternal dream of peace, a dream that so many had fought to make real. And so many had died, Susan thought sadly. She could never look upon this place again without thinking about Marcus. It was the reason she had stayed away, avoiding it as though it was infected with the Drakh plague. She had walked away from duty here when she had been offered command of Babylon 5, accepting command of the _Marduk_ instead. Now duty had forced her back to this place of pain.

"Alliance shuttle, please surrender control over to Command and Control on my mark," a voice said over the link.

It was a voice she was unfamiliar with, probably someone new. The accent it bore was one she was well acquainted with though: English. For one brief moment in time, her heart skipped a beat. It wasn't him she knew, but the accent, God it was painful as hell to hear. It seemed fate was playing a cruel game with her: first the station, then Englishmen. What would be next? She'd probably run into Rangers or have to go to Minbar. Might as well deal with one crisis at a time, she thought, as the shuttle prepared to dock.

Susan hustled through the embarkation area, towards the waiting figure of Zack Allan, chief of security. The place was just as she remembered it: animated with a multitude of races, some arriving, some leaving, some with a purpose for being here and others looking for that purpose; arriving with nothing but the hope of finding it here. This place was after all the last refuge for hope, having been built on the twilight dream of peace and of a better future. And when the darkness came, it was sheer hope that had prevented this place from falling, hope that had sustained it and fueled the fire of this shining beacon.

"Captain Ivanova." Zack greeted her with a huge smile. "It's good to see you again… been awhile huh?"

Not long enough, Susan thought. "Good to see you again too, Zack." She smiled back, the kind of smile she used when she was a Commander here, and had to mediate disputes between ambassadors, the 'I don't really like doing this but it's my job so I'll just try to look happy 'cause I have to' smile. Not that she wasn't happy to see Zack; just she would have preferred to see him anywhere else but Babylon 5.

"I was expecting to meet with Captain Lochley…"

"Well she was on her way and then somethin' came up, you know how it is. We can wait for her in the conference room and I'll brief you on the search."

"How's it coming? Any luck?"

"Luck? Around here, the only luck you have is bad luck. Hell the only guys who have good luck are down in the casino, and they've usually got the game rigged!" 

"Careful Mr. Allan, one might actually mistake you for a pessimist."

"Nah, not while you're on board," Zack responded jokingly.

Before she could reply, a Drazi bumped into her. 

"So sorry," he said.

"It's okay," she replied, as he walked off. Her eyes followed him as he moved.

"What?" Zack asked, noticing where she was looking.

"I don't know, I just got a strange feeling, that's all. It's probably nothing. Let's go."

Fletcher smiled smugly to himself. He was sure she was the one sent to find him. And he had passed her by, gotten away virtually under her nose. He paused momentarily, watching her walk off with that idiot Allan. Now he could proceed with his plans, to deal with them.

_"...Alliance President John Sheridan and First Lady Delenn are scheduled for their trip to the Guan'ar, the Guan home world."_

Fletcher jumped, startled at the voice and at the mention of them. For a moment, he thought someone was reading his mind, seeing his precious plans. He laughed aloud when he realized it was just an ISN news broadcast, coming from the screen behind him. 

"Volume up," he said.

_"...in hopes of discussing trade relations with their newest members, as well as a policy to allow Earth Alliance ship Excalibur passage through Guan space. In other news fighting has broken out…"_

Well it seemed all was going as planned. It wouldn't be long now before sweet vengeance was his.

Susan massaged the back of her neck with her hand and sighed. She was tired and her eyes hurt from staring fruitlessly at a computer screen, for how long she wasn't sure. After her meeting with Captain Lochley, she had gone over the security detail. Not that it was necessary, Lochley had been pretty thorough. The search for Fletcher was causing a major traffic pile up though, as incoming and outgoing ships were detained, searched and scanned. And the natives were getting restless. Lochley had gone to attempt to calm the agitated ambassadors so Susan had come here to assist with this aspect of the search. Not that she expected it to be more fruitful. 

She looked around the darkened room at the monks sitting there, doing the same thing she had been doing: going through the security cam's tapes of departures and arrivals, searching for any faces that matched Fletcher. Others where checking readings from the scanners, searching for energy signatures consistent with changeling nets. They worked silently, not stopping or fidgeting as she had done. Watching them filled her with an even greater sense of respect and admiration for them, and their unflinching dedication to whatever task they were devoted to. It was good to know that Brother Theo and his monks were still here, and that Captain Lochley had enlisted their help to find Fletcher as soon as she had gotten word about the mission. Apparently ever since Susan had employed their help for a similar task, it became sort of a tradition that they were asked to do work such as that. The search had so far turned up negative results however, as Lochley had informed her when they had met. They still hadn't finished going through all the tapes though, so Susan figured she might as well help them out. It beat wandering around the station aimlessly; being haunted by unwanted memories. Taking a sip of coffee, another one of her traditions that was gratefully maintained, she started work again. 

"Find anything?" someone whispered.

She looked up to see Zack standing behind her shoulder.

"Not yet but there's still a lot to go. You?"

"Well I've been asking around. I've got a few sources in the less salubrious parts of B5 that usually inform me about black market and underworld deals. So far, zip! Either your guy's not here or what he got he ain't sellin'. Speaking of less salubrious I gotta get down to brown twelve, some guy just died from a heart attack."

"Shouldn't the medical team handle that?"

"Yeah, but the guy apparently was a tech runner. Some kind of genius, built scramblers and stuff from things you could buy in an electronics store! Great gig huh? When it comes through customs it's legal, passes through his hands and poof, illegal goods for sale!"

"Tech runner?" Susan asked, "Zack, this is just a haunch, but he didn't have any changeling nets by any chance?"

Zack knew what Susan was driving at, and he didn't like it.

"Oh hell! Let's go!"

"Poison," Dr. Hobbs said, staring down at the toxicology report. "And a very good one. Virtually undetectable unless you know what to look for, otherwise it could be mistaken for a heart attack."

Susan looked down at the corpse grimly. She was in the medical bay with Dr. Hobbs, trying to find something that could link this man to Fletcher. And apparently, she had. From the report the General had given her, she knew Fletcher had a special interest in poisons. It wasn't exactly his specialty, more of a hobby. Nonetheless, it was a link.

"In fact, we would have missed it if you didn't specifically request he be checked for poison." 

"Is there anything else special about this poison, its origin?"

"Ever heard of Curare?" Susan nodded and the other woman continued. "Well it's similar, though it only targets the heart muscle, leaving the skeletal muscles, and unlike Curare it's hell to detect. Like I said it normally wouldn't show up at all, but seeing that all other tests failed and you insisted it was poison I figured it was something like this."

Taking a breath, she continued. "Only a small quantity would be needed to be lethal. It's administered by contact with the skin; it could've been pasted on anything, a glass, a pen, a..."

"Credit chit?" Zack asked, walking in with an evidence bag containing a small plastic card.

"Credit chit," Hobbs confirmed, "As for origin it's made from an extremely rare plant, indigenous to only one planet, Kaltak, in sector 19 by 5 by 7, I believe." 

Before Susan could say anything, Zack spoke up.

"I checked the passenger manifest earlier when Dr. Hobbs told me what she suspected the poison to be. She wasn't sure but I figured I'd save us time if she were right. Couple of Narns, bunch of Centauri and a few Drazis came through from there."

"If he used a changeling net to come through Babylon 5, the scanners should have picked it up."

"If it was your typical changeling net sure, scanners would detect the energy signature. But I've been doing some digging into Ferny. Seems our boy had a special on the nets. However he put 'em together modified the signature so the scanners don't pick it up. I also got someone who claims they saw a Drazi stop by Ferny's quarters."

Susan sighed. They were no better off now than when they first started. It wasn't like she could go down to the Drazi quarters and say 'anyone who's not a real Drazi please step forward.'

"Damn it!" Susan exclaimed, remembering the Drazi that had bumped into her earlier. She'd had a feeling that something wasn't right about him; now she knew what. Being a latent telepath, she had an ability, which she seldom exercised, to pick up on strong emotion. She had got the feeling that the 'Drazi' had been concealing something, as well as some intense emotion, maybe animosity, towards herself.

"I think Fletcher already left Babylon 5," Ivanova said grimly and continued to fill Zack in on her suspicion.

"All right I'll do some checking, see if I can find out where he was heading," Zack replied.

"Do that, I have to go call the General."

Tuzanor, Minbar.

John Sheridan sat in his office at his home, studying the various treaties and papers sprawled in front of him. He tapped his pen idly on his desk and sighed. Here he was, swamped with paper work, a million and one things to do, and all he could think of was how bored he was. Swiveling his chair around to face the large window at his back, he gazed out across to the horizon. The sun had already set, and now it seemed to be calling the waning twilight down towards it, so that night could be allowed to take its place. Already the stars were peering through the now darkening sky, like thousands of tiny eyes opening. He missed it, the stars, being out there among them and the feel of space beneath him. The old soldier in him was beginning to resent being tied to a desk with a chain of paper. Moments like this he envied Delenn, out there with the Rangers. Wonder if she'll want to switch jobs, he thought idly. Maybe he should ask her when she got back. Which should be any time soon, he thought, checking the time on his antique pocket watch, a wedding present from his sister.

"Mr. President?" a voice interrupted.

It came from the com unit on the wall of his office.

"Yes," Sheridan replied, turning to face it.

"There's a Mr. Garibaldi here to see you, sir."

Garibaldi. Sheridan wasn't expecting him but he wasn't entirely surprised. Michael had a tendency of dropping by unannounced whenever business brought him to the area.

"Thank you, Mr. Hayes, send him in."

"So how's Lise?" Sheridan and Garibaldi had been sitting for some time now in the living room, talking. It was as John had suspected; Michael had business to take care of on Minbar and had decided to stop by. John welcomed the visit though. He hadn't seen Garibaldi for some time as his duties as head of Edgars/Garibaldi Industries kept him as busy as the Alliance kept John.

"She's fine. Visiting friends on Proxima 3, otherwise we'd have come together. She'll be joining me later. By the way, what's up with the com systems? I've been trying to reach her since I got here."

"Solar flare blanked out a major satellite, it should be fixed soon though."

"Hello." Delenn's voice sounded from the open doorway. 

"Hey," John said, rising and walking over to where she stood. He greeted her with a kiss on the lips, which she returned fully. After a moment, Michael coughed loudly. Stepping away from John, Delenn turned to face Garibaldi. She had not noticed him when she had walked in. He sat reclining in his chair, feet propped up on the coffee table, grinning widely and waving.

"Hello, Michael," she said, acknowledging him, "this is a surprise."

"Well I thought I'd drop by and say hello," he replied lightly, "but if you kids need your privacy..."

"Michael!" Sheridan exclaimed.

Delenn laughed and walked over to embrace Garibaldi. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed Michael. Him and his 'off color' humor, as John would say. They chatted for a few more minutes before she inquired after David.

"He's in his room looking at the present Michael brought him," Sheridan told her.

"Present?" she asked.

"Don't worry," Garibalidi replied, "it won't corrupt him…too much."

He smiled wickedly as he watched her head to her son's room, trying to hide her obvious hurry. John just shook his head and followed.

David Sheridan lay on the floor; his head propped up on his hands, his eyes staring at the viewer. On the screen, a very frustrated looking Daffy Duck was having a not so pleasant conversation with a smug looking Bugs Bunny. David was in the process of figuring out what about these images made his uncle roll around, laughing like a mad man, as his father would say, when his mother entered.

"Hello David," she called.

"Mother!" David exclaimed joyfully, scrambling off the floor to greet her. "Look at what Uncle Mickey gave me!"

They conversed in Andronato for a while, oblivious to John and Michael watching in the doorway. Michael didn't know what they were saying but he could guess. David was probably telling her about his day and about school. He didn't need to understand the words to understand the bond they shared. It was the bond between mother and child that spoke in the universal language of love.

"You're a lucky man, John," Michael said.

"Yes I am," Sheridan replied, smiling proudly.

"Yeah, I mean he doesn't look a thing like you," Michael added jokingly.

"Thank you very much, Michael. You will I trust, be staying for dinner?"

After dinner, Michael sat once more in the living room with John and Delenn. 

"You know, if I knew you were cooking," he said, pointing at John, "I'd have gone to a hotel."

"It wasn't that bad!" John exclaimed defensively.

"No, not if you wash it down with a good antacid."

Delenn watched as Michael and John bantered lightly. It was good to see John looking so relaxed. The year so far had been hectic for him, managing the Alliance and dealing with the Drakh plague that had hit Earth. As much as she tried to convince him otherwise, she knew John still carried a great deal of guilt over the Shadow war and the legacy it had left behind. In the years following the war he spent a lot time questioning his actions, always believing that he could have done more. The subject had even been the source of one of their arguments. When John had started blaming himself for not doing enough, she had angrily commented that he had literally given his life and couldn't be asked to do more. The comment, or rather the pain that John saw visible in her eyes and her tone when she had said it, was enough to stop John's campaign of self criticism. 

Or at least stop him from verbalizing it. It wasn't exactly the effect she wanted. She didn't want him to stop sharing his troubles with her because it caused her pain, she merely wanted to make a point that he had done all that was possible (and even impossible). Whenever they discussed the war after that though, his shortened life span kept coming up and John, much to her annoyance, made light of its gravity. After that, they mutually decided to 'shelve' the topic.

Then the plague had hit and the guilt that John had thought he had slowly gotten over came back. Somehow though, they'd managed it better this time. 

"Excalibur and the Rangers, they will beat this John," she had told him. "Faith manages." And so far faith had indeed managed, to help him keep his sanity if nothing else, and to allow him to gradually overcome the cloud of guilt that shadowed his moments of happiness. 

"Guan home world?" Garibaldi's voice broke her thoughts. "That's the middle of nowhere!" 

"It's not that bad, kind of peaceful actually." John said.

"So who's going to stay with David while you're gone?"

"Master Vultun has agreed to watch David while we are away." Delenn replied.

She smiled when she saw the look that crossed Garibaldi's face. It was the same look he had gotten the day when he had met Vultan, and had branded him 'Master Stiff'. Of coarse the Minbari man had no knowledge of this. It was most likely though, that he himself had branded Garabaldi with some secret name fitting of his 'colorful' personality. 

"You know I won't be in business meetings all the time," Garibaldi started, "and I wouldn't mind spending time with my Godson."

"Why Michael, are you actually offering to baby-sit?" Sheridan said, feigning shock.

"Yeah, well I figure it would be good practice for me...this whole parenting thing is new."

"Parenting? You…and Lise?" This time John's surprise wasn't faked.

"I wasn't supposed to mention anything until Lise got here, it was supposed to be a surprise but I can't wait any longer….I'm gonna be a pop!" Garibaldi practically yelped the last part out, his face radiating joy and excitement.

"Michael, that's wonderful!" Delenn exclaimed. "I'm so happy for both of you."

"Well I thought when you got here you looked like you wanted to explode. Now I know why." John beamed and clapped Garibaldi on the shoulder. "Congratulations!"

"So do I get to baby-sit or not?"

"Sure, as long as I don't have to pay you for this."

"Great! I'll go tell David the good news."

_Guan'ar. _

_He could hear the screaming all around him now, the pitiful cries of the broken, frightened, desperate figures that lay writhing, dying on the ground. He shut his eyes and placed his hands over his ears to block out their shrieks. It didn't work; the sound seemed to permeate his skull into his brain. In his mind's eye the sound took on physical manifestations, appearing as demons and phantoms that danced around him, leering and shrieking, trying to take him back to the bowels of their hellish realm. He could see them surrounding him, trying to smother him._

_"Oh God! Dear God, no!" he sobbed._

_A sound cut through the wailing. An explosion maybe, he wasn't sure. He could feel small, solid fragments carried by a hot, sticky substance hit his face and chest. It didn't take long to realize what it was. Groaning, he doubled over and retched, the contents of his stomach dripping down onto his lap and mingling with the blood and bits of skull of his fallen comrade._

Fletcher woke with a start. He could feel the warm sticky liquid soaking on his clothes. His moment of confusion and panic was curtailed by his notice of the tilted coffee cup that lay at the edge of the table, leaking its contents onto his lap. Coffee. Not blood. Just the damned coffee and nothing more. 

"Damned Minbari!" he swore. Can't get a decent night's sleep because of them. Well he'd fix them soon enough, them and that traitor Sheridan, and those Rangers; those lousy damned excuse for humans. Getting off the bed, he picked up the cup and tossed it at the wall. It shattered, raining down white pieces onto the floor. White fragments stained dark with coffee. White, like bone stained dark with blood.

"Stop it! Goddamnit! Stop it! Stop it!"

His comlink beeped, the sound drawing him fully out of his nightmarish realm into reality. 

"Yeah," he answered, running his hand through his sweat soaked hair.

"It's me. It's set. They're on their way, they don't suspect a thing."

"Alright, we'll be ready."

The White Star sailed effortlessly through hyperspace towards the Guan home world. To an observer looking out there was nothing much to see except the blood red waves that enveloped the vessel. Nonetheless, every now and then Delenn would pace towards a window and look out. After watching her do this for twenty minutes, John spoke up.

"He'll be okay Delenn…it's not like we left him with a total stranger. Michael won't let anything happen to him."

"I know. It's not that I don't trust Michael with David, I just wanted to make sure that he remembered to take David to the temple…"

"Uh huh," John grunted. 

"I just hope they get the communication systems working soon."

"It will work when it will work," John replied. "Faith manages." 

He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"It's late. We should go to bed."

"I'm not tired; I won't be able to sleep."

"Who said anything about sleep?"

He turned her gently to face him and kissed her lips.

"Don't worry," he said once again. "It's only a few days, what could go wrong?"

Maybe she was just paranoid but to her the question had an ominous sound to it. It seemed somehow that the universe was preparing to answer it for both of them in a disturbing fashion. She had once heard a human quote, maybe from Ivanova, she wasn't sure. It was one of Murphy's laws: 'What can go wrong, will go wrong.' The sentence had seemingly popped into her head even before John had asked the question. Holding him, she prayed silently that the statement did not prove to be prophetic.

Carter Smith lived life by the book. He had come from a military family, spanning back to the Dilgar war. His father had from early on instilled in him the importance of duty and discipline. Duty to protecting Earth and her people and discipline to following orders without question. Even after his father's death in the Earth-Minbari war, Carter had not forgotten the old man's principles. He had been proud to wear the blue, to fight and die for Earth if need be. And he had been loyal and remained loyal even through all the fighting, watching as Sheridan swayed his comrades into becoming traitors. Carter Smith had never wavered once. He followed orders. And when the orders came for him to play the part of traitor, of defector he did that as well. He fed them just the right story, the right bits of information here and there. Enough that they had trusted him. The battle, his superiors had said, was over but the war was not yet lost. He wore a new uniform now, the brown of the rangers. But that didn't matter. Inside he knew he was still blue. And he would follow his true orders.

He sat at his post, monitoring the communication channels, the main channels and surreptitiously, the private ones as well. An Earthforce cruiser was trying desperately to communicate with the ship, more specifically with John Sheridan. A warning no doubt. But it would never reach Sheridan. There would be no stopping what was about to happen.

Guan'ar.

Servorsh Var bustled about the hall of meeting, his small, plump body spinning like a top, as he whirled around trying to take in all the activity.

"No, no, not like that!" he called out to two other Guans, who were stringing the celebration orbs above a large stage. "It should be higher."

The response he got was a loud crash, as the orbs were accidentally let go and went hurling full speed to the floor. The pudgy Guan muttered a string of curses under his breath. The president of the Interstellar Alliance and his wife, the leader of the Rangers was coming to his home world and it was his job to ensure that everything would be perfect.

"Servorsh Var," a voice said behind him.

"Yes? What is it?" turning he eyed his aide with ill concealed annoyance.

"The air coolant system seems to be malfunctioning."

Perfection it seemed, had no intention of attending this momentous occasion, at least not without a fight. Servorsh groaned loudly. The coolant systems were brand new, bought especially for this occasion. Their planet's temperature, while not unbearably hot would prove uncomfortable for humans and Minbari. He could not have his guests sweltering. 

"Seems?" Servorsh asked, frustrated, "Either it is malfunctioning or it isn't. And if it is, I suggest you find the techs who sold you those confounded things and let them fix it! Do I have to do everything myself?"

With those words Servorsh sent his aid scurrying away. He sighed aloud. He still had much to do again. He needed to find Lerosh and ensure that he had everything in order with regards to security, plus go over the final menus for the feast after. So much to do, so little time. Taking one last look around, Servosh shook his head and exited the hall.

Ranger Banker stood silent, dark eyes scanning the crowd. Next to her, Ranger Vashan stood, his eyes facing forward towards the stage. At the podium, President Sheridan was ending his speech, amidst nods of approval. Across the room other rangers stood vigil. So far so good, she thought. Most of the speeches and major formalities were over. After, there would be a banquet of sort and then private negotiations between the Guan leaders and President Sheridan. She would be more than happy when it was over, and everyone could leave the hall. Gatherings of this sort made the President too easy a target. She cast her eyes about the room again; paying special attention to shadowy areas where any would be assassin could hide.

Finally, she glanced sidelong at her companion. Vashan was looking pale, well paler than usual for a Minbari anyway.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

There were tiny beads of perspiration on his forehead.

"Yes," he said at length, "it might be the climate takes some getting used to."

"Okay," Banker replied doubtfully. 

Taking her eyes from Vashan, she focused on the stage. President Sheridan had finished speaking and was heading back to his seat, as the Guan leader thanked him and began his own discourse.

John resumed his seat next to Delenn, a pleased look on his face. Smooth sailing so far. The Guann leaders were pleasant enough and seemed genuinely interested in the issues raised in his speech. He only hoped that they proved as accommodating in the private audience later, once away from the public limelight. He looked over at his wife to gauge her reaction to everything and was surprised to see how tensed she looked. She had been disturbed that they had not been able to make contact with David on Minbar before leaving the ship, but he didn't think that she would let it affect her so much. No, it had to be something else. Before he could say anything to her, though, his attention was drawn away by a loud thud, followed by startled murmurs from the crowd. John looked up just in time to see the one of a Minbari Rangers sprawled on the floor. Another Ranger was knelt at his side, calling for medical aide. Two other Rangers had already positioned themselves closer to himself and Delenn, ready to move them out if need be. But as far as John could tell, no shots had been fired. The Ranger had simply fallen.

"What's happened?" he asked, getting up.

The other Rangers barely had a chance to open their mouths before Delenn spoke, cutting them off.

"John," she said, her voice sounding strained, as though speaking his name took great effort. She was sweating he realized. 

"Delenn?"

"Something's wrong." She managed before collapsing forward.

"Oh my God, Delenn!" John shouted.

"Get the doctors, quickly!" one of the Guan leaders shouted when he realized what was happening.

The murmur of the crowd had now escalated into an outright din as confused, frightened onlookers demanded answers. Doctors from the Minbari ship and from the Guan world made their way through the confusion, trying to get to their patients. In all the commotion, no one noticed the Ranger lingering in the back of the hall.

"It's done," he said into a comlink.

Thomas Fletcher heard the words that came over the link. He smiled coldly as he thought of the commotion that was taking place now. Well he'll let it settle down a bit, and then soon he will be sending the President a little message to go with the 'gift' he'd already delivered to that freak he called a wife. Fletcher laughed aloud, a high, sick sound that echoed of insanity. Revenge was never so sweet, he thought.

**To be continued.**


End file.
